


Scary Love

by 5_0_5



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angry Gerard Way, Bottom Frank Iero, Frankie - Freeform, Gerard is a dick, Gerard loves frank, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Drug Use, Past Violence, Youve heard of hate sex, bullied frank, depressing past, frank can fight, frank doesnt know what to do, frankie is sad, gerard used to bully frank, now get ready for, sad sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5_0_5/pseuds/5_0_5
Summary: Gerard Way is an asshole. He's self-entitled with major anger issues. But he draws Frank to him like a fucking magnet. But Frank doesnt stick. They play a game of cat and mouse, push and pull. "I loves you"s and fights and they never really know what to do. They kiss too quickly, fuck too roughly for it to be personal,  but they do it too often for it to be 'just a fling'. Maybe they deserve each other or maybe they just fucking hate each other enough for it to border love.Frank's dad just died and hes pulled back to his old home in belleville.These two are overused and over written, but here's my contribution.Theyre gonna fight and fuck and kiss and cry and its gonna be great





	1. Frank Iero

**Author's Note:**

> my boys are good, for the most part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If youd rather read this story on Wattpad, it is on there too! I update more frequently and consistently on there, also feel free to pm me if you want! :) I am deatthyqueens and the story there is titled  
> Scary Love ★ Frerard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If youd rather read this story on Wattpad, it is on there too! I update more frequently and consistently on there, also feel free to pm me if you want! :) I am deatthyqueens and the story there is titled  
> Scary Love ★ Frerard

Off in the distance, Frank could hear the faint caw of the birds. He could deny it all he wanted, but he missed it, so much. The rumble of the lone car backed with the low volume music, that no one ever seemed to change. Though these days Frank was alone, left to his thoughts and the music. The miles pulled away at him as he reminisced of things he'd normally rather drink away. He'd been driving for 2 hours with the fear of seeing 'them' again. He knew it was inevitable, that he would have to face them. He was just trying to find a way to be okay with that.

Frank wallowed in his mind as he pulled up to his old home. A home full of not-so-fond memories. He was going to be staying here for his mother, but maybe more for himself. His dad's funeral was tomorrow, and already knew he wasn't going, but of course his roommate kept pestering him, pressuring him. Reminding him that it was his mother, that she needed her son and of course it probably was going to make it harder on her. He resembled his father in so many ways that not even his tattoos could cover some of it. Frank was 18, in his last year of high school. But something along the years had changed about him, Frank dropped the sweet, little catholic boy who got bullied schtick once he was a pushed one too many times. He dropped his moral code, packed up and ran away. Stealing his dads car and joining a friend in New York to go to highschool.

As he drove into his mother's driveway, he contemplated her reaction to the new Frank. Deciding that whatever it may be would be understandable, he climbed out of his semi-rusty car and walked into the house that never seemed to welcome him in a way he wanted, rather in all the ways he despised. He was going to be spending a year there, as well as finishing high school in this old, dusty town.  
He didn't want to, but he was going to anyway. He ran a paler-than-normal hand through his messy, wavy brown hair and tapped his knuckles against the old wooden door and waited, hearing sniffles "G-Go away! I'll be fine Donna!" She stuttered out shakily, waiting for 'Donna' to leave. "Mom it's me, Frank" he choked out awkwardly.  
Jumping back as the door swung open to reveal his tiny mother crying and sniffling into a rag with wide eyes as she stared at her son in what resembled happiness.  
He smiled and opened his arms to welcome her into a hug and she launched herself forward, crying incoherent words about missing him into his chest. To be honest Frank just wanted her to let go but he held her nonetheless.  
After about 30 seconds of hugging, his mom reluctantly pulled back and led him inside, asking him how school was and tried her best to avoid his tattooed arms, she never approved of this but signed the papers for them anyway, not wanting to argue with her son over distance collect phone calls.  
"School is good, the teachers are okay." he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair again, "Have you signed yourself in here already?" She seemed concerned about his education, more so than normal. "Not yet, I wanted to see you first" he smiled through his lie, truth is-he wasn't ready yet.  
"Well I gotta stop at Donna's, she's been worried for me, and I guess I'm worried about her myself so why don't you go on down and enroll yourself?" She sighed and honestly Frank wasn't gonna lie, his mother seemed to want him gone just as much as he wanted to leave, so he nodded and muttered a quick "Love you" and left, his father's old black pick-up rumbling to life as he turned the key, Frank felt like he was disrespecting the original Frank Iero, but its not like he could force himself to care. He drove off silently, pulling out a cigarette and lighting in up as he suppressed the memories that were hidden deep in his mind, and seemingly engraved into, the walls of the old town. He pulled into the driveway of the school building as he flicked the stick of chemicals out the window and took a small moment to think a thousand thoughts as he parked.  
Deciding not to linger too long, he climbed out and slammed the door harshly.  
He reassured himself as he held his head high, stomping into the building.  
Walking into the office where an old lady sat on the phone, chatting with a friend until she noticed Frank stood by her desk, glaring at nothing in particular for being forced to wait.  
"And how can I help you?" Her voice dripped of annoyance as she stared him over in disapproval. "My name's Frank Iero" he told her blandly, his old school had already emailed his info here, so she should have it on record. "Ah, well, here's your schedule" she muttered, shuffling around papers om her desk, before handing Frank the paper he truly dreaded seeing. Sighing he left without another word or glance at the yellowish paper.  
Crashing into someone and knocking them over, He looked down in shock to see a map of fire-truck red hair and a sleeveless grey shirt. "dammit watch where you're going-" the kid cursed looking up at Frank with anger evident in his dark eyes. "Damn shortie." He muttered as he stood up and left, bumping his shoulder against Frank's as a warning.  
Frank stiffly walked out, releasing a breath he didn't notice he was holding. He recognized that kid.  
He climbed into his car and threw the piece of paper onto the passenger seat and drove away without another thought. Turning the music up as loud as it would go, the drum beat calming him as he sighed. Thinking of Bob and how he was doing. He knew he shouldn't dwell on it and let the thought go, and instead paid more attention to the music playing on the radio. It was some pop-song so Frank decided to just pay attention to the dusty road ahead of him. He sighed as his eyes flitted over the dusty asphalt, memories surfacing in his blank mind that he didn't welcome. He bit his chapped lip and let his mind run. He was focusing on everything and nothing at the same time and somehow got to his mother's old house safely. He parked his father's truck and sat there for a moment. Reminiscing memories of his childhood while the scent of the old man drifted around Frank. He couldn't take it, he felt like he was suffocating so he jumped out of the car. He stood in the garage a moment before walking to the passenger side, gripping his paper and walking inside, leaving the keys in the old truck. Maybe if he was lucky the old man would drive it away and he'd never have to see it again. Though that was probably the most unrealistic expectation he'd had today. He walked inside slowly to see his mother sniffling on the couch. She had a bundle of tissues in her hand and was seemingly trying to focus (and failing) on the soap drama on the tv. He walked over to her and gave her a cautious hug, offering a spare bit of empathy and consideration. She hugged him back and sniffled again into his shirt, with "I love you Frank." on her lips, though it sounded more like she was talking to his father than him. He pulled out of the hug and hurriedly walked up stairs, and to his old room which remained similar to the boring way he left it, pale gray walls with a bed that had nothing on it. He sighed and looked at the stack of boxes, and began unpacking and setting everything up to the way he wanted it. His 3 guitars perched in the corner, his bed halfheartedly made with his writing and school stuff on his desk. he sighed and pulled out his phone and dialed Bob, who didn't answer. Deciding it'd be better than doing nothing he sat down and began to strum his acoustic guitar, creating the melody in his head. He began to hum and play louder, getting lost in the feeling of the metal strings against his fingers and the rumble of the sounds in his almost empty room.

_Maybe life isn't so bad after all._

\------------------------------------------------  
Song: Stage Four, Fear Of Trying by Frnkiero andthe Cellabration

Edited by @_WallflowerBoy_ on Wattpad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If youd rather read this story on Wattpad, it is on there too! I update more frequently and consistently on there, also feel free to pm me if you want! :) I am sipstraightchlorine and the story there is titled  
> Snuff ★ Frerard


	2. Gerard Way

Frank woke up to a faint scent of bacon and eggs and the alarm he had preset on his phone reminding him to go to hell. He didn't want to move but he eventually pulled himself from the bulky grey sheets and got dressed in a plain black shirt with a dark blue hoodie over it. He grabbed his bag and marched down the stairs, the creaking of the old wood spiraling him into his memories yet again.

He breathed loudly and glanced at his grieving mother before taking a seat at the old soft oak table, glancing out the window. ' _Such an odd sky_ ' Frank remarked to himself as his mother sat a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. He sighed and told her he wasn't really hungry. She nodded, hugging him and just stood stock in the kitchen as she watched him gather his stuff and leave with her bloodshot and sunken eyes.

He loved his mother but she confused him sometimes. What was she expecting him to do? He lived in New Jersey for such a long time, with Bob. Frank winced as he thought of Bob.

He stomped into the garage and climbed into his fathers old, beat up car. The pile of rust rumbled as it started and he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as he drove to his school.

He pulled the crumbled up schedule out of his baggy jean pocket and half-heatedly glanced over it.  
'Room 142' was his first class so he grabbed his tardy note from the front desk and silently ran to class, crashing into a rather tall man with plain black hair. He didn't look pleased but Frank still made his way past hurriedly.

When he reach the room, he sighed for a moment and carefully walked in, his embarrassment boiling up when he saw every little beady eye of the bloodthirsty class staring straight at him in curiosity.

Frank slowly handed the tardy note to the teacher and, after briefly reading the note, the teacher muttered "so your new? Wanna tell us anything about yourself?" Frank just shook his head and sat down at a seat near the front and pulled a dark orange notebook from his ratty bag, and began writing the notes written on the bored before being rudely interrupted as another student cockily opened the door and strode in as if he was the king of everything around him, including Frank.

"Gerard Way. Wheres your tardy note?" The teacher gritted in a voice that heavily implied that he was about to blow up on the cocky ass teenager with fire-engine red hair. "Don't have one" people were burning holes into there books while forcing themselves to refuse acknowledging the boy that was stood in front of the class. Frank decided to follow them and continued trying to write notes, he got two words in when the cocky son of a bitch decided to walk right over to Frank and sit down directly in front of him.

Frank refused to look up at him and his quivering hands messily wrote the words written on the board. He got about a paragraph into the notes before the red head spun around and looked directly at Frank's half-closed eyes. "What's up with you?" Frank mentally sighs "Nothing." He continues attempting to write but the boy (annoyingly so) continues blocking his way. Frank finally gets angered by it and slams his pen down against his book "What the hell do you want?" "To talk to the new kid." "Well the new kid doesn't wanna talk to you, so fuck off."  
Rage seeped into Frank's pores as the boy continued to attempt to gather his attention. He's always had anger issues. "What's your name?" "Frank." "Frank what?" "Frank mother-fucking Sinatra, now leave me alone." He demands while trying once again to finish his notes. "Well I'm Gerard" Frank simply nods as he continues to stare blankly at the board. "Mr.Way would you please leave.. Mr.Iero alone?" "Nah" Frank sighed and glanced at the clock. ' _This_   _class is almost over'_ Gerard turned around to face Frank once again "So you're Frank Iero?" Frank didn't look at him, just nodded.

"Where have i heard that name?" Franks breath caught in his throat as the Fire-Truck red head turned back around to face his own work.

Frank coughed and looked around nervously  
' _I_ _got to get out of here and away from him_ '  
Memories of Gerard Way flooded Franks pounding head as the dam holding all the memories and bruises back crashed. The bell shook everything around him and Frank shoved everything into his bag and ran out of the class, tripping over his dirty, untied shoe-laces and the heated bodies as he forced his legs to get him to his away from there soon as possible.

So Frank finally slowed near some abandoned train tracks that were hidden from the area, he laid down on his back, his lungs screamed for air and he felt as if they were shrinking inside his pounding chest. Frank's breathing slowed and he sat up, placing his hand on his bag as he repeated the same words within his messy head.  _"Your truck."_

Then a new thought burned it's way through,  _it's not your truck. It's his._

So Frank sighed and and looked around before rubbing his head. He decided to get his truck and go home.

He sucked in a large breath and lunged his bag onto his stiff shoulder and began walking in the same way he came.

Killer thoughts of Gerard Way in his pounding head all the way back.

He hesitantly stepped onto the grounds of the school 10 minutes afterwards and climbed into his  _His Dads_ old rusted truck. He took a moment to breath and roughly jerked the key over and listened to the engine rumble slowly. "Sorry dad" he whispered sarcastically as he let his mind wonder to his past. As he passed the school gates he saw a mop of fire-truck red hair and accelerated.

"On second thought, I'm not sorry" he glanced out the side of his window before lightning a cigarette. "I'm not sorry"

\----------------------------------  
Song: Bulls In The Bronx by Pierce The Veil


	3. Jamia Nestor, Or Whats Left Of Her

Frank briefly closed his eyes as the small rumble of the worn tires on the gravel calmed his heart. As he opened his eyes he could imagine the sound of his father screaming his old lungs out as Frank's foot slammed the gas petal to the old metal floor with his middle finger out of the window.

Frank couldn't say he enjoyed that day. That day was just another of many. He sighed and flicked the half-smoked cigarette out of the window and accelerated. He didn't know where he was going but his conscious was guiding him. Word of Frank should be moving around the school.

Gerard would have told Mikey, Mikey would have remembered Frank, Gerard would tell his friends and word would be everywhere tomorrow. Frank chuckled as he imagined the scenario.

_"Mikey!_ _There's_ _a new kid." "_ _What's_ _his name?" "Frank Iero" "THE Frank Iero?" "Wait, you know him?" "_ _He's_ _that stupid fag that left freshman year" "Holy shit."_

Frank's nerves settled. He's not scared. And if it comes to it, he'll deal with what he has to. So as Frank reach his destination, he slammed on his break a bit harder than necessary and climbed out of the car as the dust from the gravel settled.

He was at the Belleville abandoned cemetery. He climbed up the old mossy stone steps and found what he was looking for almost immediately.

_Here Lies_ _Jamia_ _Nestor_

The top of the rectangular stone read. Frank could make out the words that read " _beloved daughter, sister, and citizen of Belleville_ " underneath her name.

Though he can remember being there beside her family as the words were freshly engraved in the slab of stone. As he looks around the area, he could still see tiny shards of water-logged green glass.

_Frank coughed as his tears mixed with the October night fog. He almost tripped over himself as his boot slapped against the top stone step. What he was looking for_ _wasn't_ _hard to find, considering she'd been the last buried here for years. It seemed as if her stone shined as a_ _beacon next to the old marble-stone resting places. Though the R in her name had already begun to fade. Frank had ran his hands along the word so frequently. He stumbled over to her stone head and ran his bruised hand over the chipped edge of the top. "Goddamn it_ _Jamia_ _" he whimpered as memories of the day she died flooded his head. "Why'd you leave me here?" He suddenly felt rage fill his mind. "WHY!?" he slammed the half-empty vodka bottle against her grave stone, smashing it and causing shards to sink into his already bloody hand. He slumped against the stone and cried. "Why?" He choked_ _._

Frank could still faintly feel the tracing of her engraved name on his fingertips. He looked at his hand and could still see the deformed silver-pink scar running along his palm. "I left the night after that. Drove so far away from my problems. I still remember the feeling of the wind in my hair and the freezing cold air against my tears." He spoke as if she could answer him. He gently ran his fingers over her name. "The R is faded" He whispered. "I'm sorry," He didn't know what else to say, but he could feel her smiling back at him in her favorite sun-dress, and whispering  _"_ _Its o_ _kay Frankie"._  "Is it okay Jamie?" He sighed and gently shook his head. "Its not." He muttered. He sat down and leaned his back against the front of what was left of her. He imagined being able to feel the words against his back as he laid there completely silent.

He smiled to himself as the warm sunshine beat down on him from behind the trees. He looked around again before closing his eyes, the deformed red color soothing his mind. "Jamia" he muttered.

\----------------------------------

Song: The Kids Arent All Right by Fall Out Boy


	4. To Be Calm

Frank sighed and looked around the mostly empty area before getting up and deciding to leave. He hadn't been to keen on staying very long. He fingers brushed her name once more before he began stalking off, checking his pockets for his keys. He winced slightly as the rusty truck creaked loudly upon opening it. He glanced around him before smiling subconsciously. Climbing into the car, his mind got lost in the sound of motor revving to life. "Bye Jamia" he whispered before speeding off. He passed the school and the memories flashed back, as he wished they wouldn't.

_My breath caught in my throat suddenly, as I looked around at the people I've known for what feels like my entire life._

_And they may hate me, but do I hate them? I know I'm happy to leave this place, but will they be happy to see me leave? Will they notice when I won't show up for months?_

_No, they won't. They are so in their own la-la-land that they would just not realize the absence of little Frank_ _Ireo_ _._

_A name I wish I didn't have. A name I wish nobody knew._

_Maybe it could be different where I'm going. I could be something I never was before._

_I could be happy. Something I haven't been since I can't remember when._

He shook his head aggressively and sped up. His back aching as he pushed it against the worn seats. He sighed and breathed in with the beats on the radio. Eventually, he pulled into his garage and just sat in the truck. He listened to his own breathing and the sounds of existence around him. The cicadas singing from the trees, the sounds of crickets croaking from the grass. Then he focused on feeling his pulse in his wrists and neck. He slid a shaky cigarette between his lips and closed his eyes as he lit it. He breathed deeply, relishing the feeling of smoke and chemicals entering his lungs, the way it felt to breathe it out. He took his hand from its resting place on the steering wheel, moving it to the dip just above his collar bones, felting the beat in his neck. His pulse was slow, he was calm. "I am alive." his voice dominated the air, breaching the serene sounds of life that he had been listening to in the late evening.

He took long, deep breaths of his cigarette, nursing it away in minutes. He tossed the butt out into the grass and walked in the all-to-familiar house. His mom sat on the couch, conversing lowly with another woman. She had poofy, thin, bleach blonde hair and slightly heavy makeup. "Oh, Frankie! This is Donna. Donna this is my son Frank." His mother spoke slightly lively, her eyes obviously wet from crying. She motioned Frank over to her, but he ignored this, walking past the couch and to the stairs. "Hi.." he could tell his voice was cold but he couldn't be bothered to offer empathy. His body felt weird as he scaled the stairs and locked the door to his room. He laid haphazardly on his bed. It felt as if he was spectating this. As if it wasn't really him.

He tried to make himself feel normal again. Feel empathy for his mother. Feel sad that his father is dead, but it wasn't easy. His father hated him and all of his choices and his mother was always on supported it. They wanted Frank to be the kind of man that his father was, but he fell into having a real understanding of reality. His father lived with a preconceived notion of how life and family work, but Frank understood that what you make of life is all that matters. Eventually, he diverged too far from what his parents wanted of him, which led to him meeting up with an internet friend and continuing high school away from Belleville. After that he tried to remember his past, it was something he'd repressed a lot. Throughout middle school, Frank was bullied by Gerard Way, Ray Toro, and Pete Wentz. There were other friends of that trio, such as Gerard's brother Mikey, but he didn't really pay attention to Frank. The bullying was never a big problem until 8th grade when things got physical. Frank had been hiding from Ray when Gerard found him, maybe Gerard had had a particularly shit day because he took it all out on Frank. He beat Frank so bad he broke his leg, and poor little naive Frankie sold him out. It resulted in a temporary suspension for Gerard and a world of hurt from the other two.

It all ended up leading to Frank keeping his lips sealed until he was pushed too far and just left. His parents didn't really care anyway.  _'Just go to school'_  was the only sort of kindness that they offered. Only sort of kindness they could offer.

Though its all in the past. Frank can hold his own if he has to, but best case scenario the trio of dicks would've grown up and dropped the bullying schtick. Frank let out a heavy sigh and sat up on his bed. He looked around, taking in the blandness of his room. He breathed in the dusty air and breathed out carbon dioxide. He did this for many minuted, just losing himself in the feeling of breathing. He made himself believe he was in 8th grade, the scars on his arms fresh wounds, his cheeks wet with tears, how it felt back then to breathe. It felt suffocating to breathe in this town back then, it felt like he lungs got smaller every breath he took. But now, it just feels like breathing. Oxygen in, carbon dioxide out, repeat. He had adapted to the world as it was. 'Life sucked, oh well' was the only view of life he had now.

He got to his feet, deciding that sitting on his bed, listening to himself breathe was a bit boring. He grabbed his keys and left the house, sparing his mother's bedroom door a fleeting glance. When he stepped outside, the air was crisp and cold and dark. He pulled a faded jacked over his shoulders and left the house. He drove around the night, low music playing from the shitty speakers in the car. He smoked 3 cigarettes before coming to the conclusion that he needed to get drunk. Ironically, that's when he drove past a house party. He recognized some of the faces as kids from his school. 'Fuck it, free booze' was his reasoning as he parked his truck, dropped the butt of his cigarette and walked inside the house. His fathers funeral was at ten in the morning tomorrow, and his mother would never even consider taking him if he was hungover. He didn't pay much attention to the abundance of drunk and high teens dancing to lame pop music, just focused on keeping his head down and finding something strong to drink.

Frank eventually stumbled into the kitchen, finding one girl passed out against the wall and cases of beer on the counter. He grabbed a bottle from one, hopped up on the counter, and lit a cigarette. He took a long drink from the bottle, gulping down as much as he could before he had to come up for air. The door to the kitchen opened and revealed fire-truck red head Gerard way. He looked dissociated, in his own mind. His eye locked onto Frank, who was trying very hard to keep a level head and then to the beer. Gerard grabbed one, took a couple drinks, and then looked at Frank for another long moment. "I've seen you somewhere." "well duh, we have classes together." Franks' voice was harsh, and he blew smoke into Gerard's face. Who coughed and scowled. "Well yeah, but like, I know you" the way Gerard said 'know you' set Frank on edge. "No, you don't." Frank took a drink and flicked ashes onto the floor. "That's a messy habit," Gerard remarked, propping himself against the wall in front of Frank. "I'm a messy man." Frank sighed, feeling oddly hipstery at the statement. "How edgy of you," Gerard remarked, his eyes locked onto the cigarette between Franks' fingers. "Can I bum one?" "You don't seem like the kind of person to smoke," Frank said in turn, pulling out his pack. "You don't seem like a high schooler, yet here you are." Gerard muttered as Frank flicked a cigarette to him. "Oh really funny, I'm short." Franks breathing wasn't as labored anymore. He was talking to his middle school bully, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like a normal discussion between tipsy teenagers. "You're Frank, right?" Frank lit Gerard's cigarette for him, "Yeah, and you're Gerard." A twinkle lit in Gerard's eye, "you've heard of me?" Frank let out a sarcastic laugh, "Kinda hard to miss." He motioned to Gerards less-than-subtle red hair. "Oh." Gerard's voice was low, he brushed his hair out of his face. "Why're you here, Frank?" The longer he talked, the more the gears turned in his mind. Sooner rather than than later, he's gonna remember Frank. "To get drunk, what about you Gerard?" Frank and Gerard both blew smoke at each other, and they smiled, and it was nice. "I live here" Frank laughed, cocking an eyebrow, "Well, who has parties on Thursday?" Gerard looked down for a moment, watching the ash from his cigarette fall onto his boots, "Who gets drunk on Thursdays?" "Us, apparently" Frank felt weird saying 'us' in context to him and Gerard. It felt, in a sense, wrong. Gerard met Franks eyes, blowing smoke through his nose "Us, apparently"

\--------------------

Song: Broken by Lund


	5. Dont Give A Fuck About Your Bad Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe they kiss maybe they do something else :)

Frank brought his hand to Gerard's neck. Gerard, noticeably alarmed, went rigid. Frank blew a puff of smoke in Gerard's face, focusing on watching his hand and the way it moved on his skin.   
Gerard's skin was pale, he had a very defined Adams Apple and Frank had unrelenting focus on the way his own tattooed hand moved along it. He dragged his calloused fingers from right to left and back, gently trailing his fingernails along Gerard's windpipe.   
Gerard watched the way Frank would lean in and out, the way he would bite his lip with uncharacteristic unrestraint. Gerard noticed a bead of blood appear on Franks lips, he watched as it burst and found a trail off Franks lips and down to chin. Frank paid no notice to it, blowing smoke on his hand wand watching the smoke fade to reveal gerards throat. Frank felt Gerard's pulse, feeling the faded heat on Gerard's cold skin, and Gerard felt Franks hand move over his throat in an almost absent way. Gerard breathed in slow, the heat from franks cigarette a fleeting comfort.  
Both boys were drunk, and it was too late for them to realize who the other really was. Frank was an absent man, would most likely disappear in a couple weeks, and Gerard was flamboyant, a highschool has-been waiting to happen. “What are you doing?” Gerard spoke in an non-existent voice, as quiet and gentle as the smoke from Franks cigarette. “Touching you.” Frank breathed the words more than said them. It didn't matter to the two that anyone could just walk in and burst their bubble, they drowned out the everchanging party music and the sounds of drunk and mindless teenagers.   
Gerard breathed carefully, and shallow. The feeling of Franks rough fingertips against his throat washing everything else away. Gerard leaned heaver against the wall as Frank pushed himself forward. He could feel Franks breath against his jaw, it felt hot and smelled of beer and cigarettes. Gerards, hazy, felt an urge to lean forward, to plant his lips on franks. He couldn't see well, the only light coming from some stupid speaker that lit up with random colors. It bathed Frank in red then blue.   
Franks lip was deep red with dried blood, and it was all Gerard could focus on. Franks tongue darted out and wet his lips, and Gerard lost it. He slammed Frank back agaisnt the counter, and grabbed each side of his face and connected their lips. The kiss was needy, tasted of booze and cigarettes and blood. Frank balled his fists into Gerard's leather jacket and pulled him flush against himself, Gerard's hands tugged at Franks hair. The song playing drowned out everything around them, all that mattered was their lips together and losing all their self-control. Frank couldn't form a coherent thought, he could only focus on Gerard's lips on his and hands in his hair. “Fuck” he breathed heavily as Gerard pulled back to kiss down his neck.   
“Frank,” Gerard said against his neck, his hands running up and down Franks sides.   
“Yeah?” Franks eyes were squeezed shut, and he was trying desperately to think of something other than Gerard's lips against his throat.  
“Frank,” Gerard said again, his voice breathy. Frank wss still gripping Gerard's jacket, clinging onto him. He hummed in response, nearly moaning as Gerard sucked a hickey onto his neck.  
Nothing was said for almost 15 minutes. The two teenagers drunkenly clung to each other and sloppily kissed. Somehow Gerard got Frank pinned onto the kitchen table and shirtless, though neither teen really remembered how it happened. They were rutting into each other, moaning lowly and avoiding each others eyes. Their movements were jerky and needy, pulling desperately at each others clothes but not actually making an effort to get them off.   
“Oh, shit!” They hear somebody start laughing and snap their attention to the door, where two boys stand. Gerard's eyes go wide, and he jumps off frank and starts running toward the two boys, one of which has a phone out and pointed toward them.   
Frank briefly registers Gerard yelling “Mikey!” as he chases the two out of the kitchen. Frank gets himself somewhat together, has enough consciousness to go to the fridge and grab a bottle of water and start chugging it. He grabs his shirt off the floor and finds his way out of the house, not paying much attention to anything around him. He finds his way to his truck and climbs in, all the while taking in gulps of water. he rubs his hands over face as what just happened finally dawns on him.  
“I almost fucked Gerard Way.” He states, sticking his key in to the ignition. It briefly occurs to him that maybe he shouldn't drive while drunk but he just wants to get away from Gerard Way, and the music, and loud teenagers. So he pulls out slowly and begins his drive home, going painstakingly slow.   
The full memory of his lips against Gerard's sinking in alongside his hangover. Frank gets home and the only thing on his mind is Gerard Way. His stupid fucking hair, his eyes, his lips, his pulse. To Frank, Gerard was like a livewire, buzzing with electricity. A ticking time bomb, but the timer hidden. To Frank, Gerard was nothing but dangerous. Frank ran his thumb over his bottom lip, hoping maybe the buzzing feeling that Gerard left on them might rub away.

 

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Song: Bad Intentions by Transviolet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ive got a good portion of chapter 6 already written and im so excited to be writing again!!! Please, leave a kudos or a comment if you liked this, it really does motivate me to write more and to work harder on making chapters better! ❤❤


	6. Scary Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank may do something he regrets later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They fuck

Frank keeps his eyes on the ground, focusing on his worn chuck taylors hitting the ground. He grits his teeth, thinking of last night. All he can think about is Gerard, the way his skin felt under his fingertips, the way his lips molded with his, the way he- Frank shakes the thought away abruptly. He runs his hands over his face and sighs. He doesn't even know why he came to school today. He should've just stayed home, or driven somewhere quiet. Instead he decided to go a place inhabited by vultures, all waiting to tear each other's guts out. Frank ducks into the bathroom quickly, and keeps his head down. He walks past the small huddle of kids smoking, and takes out one of his own cigarettes. He lights it quickly and breathes in deeply, a little too deeply, he suppresses a cough and pulls out his phone. As he smokes, he checks his social media’s. It goes about as boring as you'd expect, until he gets the thought to search for Gerard Way. He quickly types in the name to instagram, and finds clicks on the first profile. The first thing he sees is a picture of Gerard, cigarette between his lips and both middle fingers up. Frank clicks on the photo and the caption says  _ “fuck the world. ty @xlindseyballatox”.  _ Frank looks through more of Gerards photos, scrolls down to find a picture of him with black hair. The first photo Frank finds of Gerard with black hair, its shaggy and slightly damp, and he has a huge black eye. It covers most of his left face. His lips are pulled back in an ugly, menacing smirk and he, again, has both middle fingers up. Frank clicks the picture, the caption reads  _ “you think this looks bad? you should see the other guy. pic taken by @mikeyway” _ . Franks lips quirk up a bit, but he squashes it down. He will not smile while looking at a photo of Gerard Fucking Way. He won't. He quickly clicks on Mikey Way’s profile and the most recent post is a video. Frank doesn't instantly recognize it, when he clicks it. The shitty speakers of his phone start playing the shitty song and Frank immediately recognizes what he's looking at. Its a video. Of him. And Gerard. On Gerards kitchen table. Very clearly kissing. Frank is very clearly shirtless. The video clip shows Gerard looking up, then beginning to chase whoevers recording. At the very end, there's a frame of Franks confused face. Frank lets out an audible sigh and looks up, just as the bell rings. He sighs again, louder, and tossed his mostly-smoked cigarette into the sink and walks out. He quickly remembers his class is with Gerard, and begins panicking. He looks around frantically. Finding that he's closer to the locker rooms than a bathroom, so he ducks into the hopefully empty locker room. 

To Franks relief, its empty. He takes deep breath and curses himself for even coming back to bellville at all. Then he thinks of Bob, and bites his lip hard.

 

His mind, thoughts are going haywire. Hes spiralling, fast. He beiefly wonders why, why now?  _ I was doing so good!  _ He screams at himself, but he's already falling. The spiral winds and winds and he's getting tunnel vision. In his mind's eye, Frank sees strawberry blonde hair. And blue eyes. And a pierced lip. Like puzzle pieces, they slot into place to create an image. Frank thinks of Bob. And as much as he tries, he can't  _ not  _ think of Bob. He knows his breathing is erratic, he knows he's on the floor, he knows he looks crazy. But the spiral is dragging him down. For a brief moment, when its quiet, he attributes this break down, this invasion of his mind, to Gerard way. To Gerard ways hands on him, to his lips on him, to his eyes on him. Frank thinks he can hear something, someone. Maybe they're saying his name, but his mind distorts it. He hears Bob screaming his name. And he flinches, squeezes his eyes shut tighter but it doesn't help. Suddenly, his body is jerked, he can finally hear something, see something other than  _ Bob _ . It feels ridiculous, to him. One thought of one man sent him into a full fledged break down. And yet again, he decided to blame Gerard way. 

 

He looks around frantically for a moment, and his brain takes in everything it wouldn't earlier. Somebody is slightly shaking him, their hand on his shoulder. That somebody is Gerard Fucking Way. Franks face feels wet, he figures he must've been crying. He roughly shoves Gerard’s hand off him, gets to his feet a little to quickly, and stumbles back. 

 

“What the fuck?” He asks, harshly. His voice is hoarse, and sounds weak. He curses himself for even speaking. 

 

“What was that?” Gerard demands. The redhead stands, takes a step forward and Frank takes a step back. For a moment, Frank wants to hold his ground, to look Gerard in the eye, tell him to fuck off. But he can't, he flinches and steps back. “What the hell was that?” Gerard demands again, taking another step forward. 

 

Frank takes two steps back, sensing that he's getting very close to a wall he does not want to be cornered against. “Nothing,” his voice comes out weak, the word mumbled. Frank bites his lip, and they sting a bit as he bites right into a cut on it.  “It was nothing.” He tries to say louder, but it still sounds meek and cowardly. Gerard leans forward.

 

“That didn't fucking look like nothing.” Gerard looks Frank up and down, and Frank can't read his face. His face is almost stoic, almost expressionless. Almost like- Frank cuts the thought off before it can send him into another spiral. he looks down, away from Gerard, and wipes his face. His cheeks are tight with dry tears and he feels so fucking ridiculous. Standing right infront of the guy who sort-of maybe got him into the mess. 

 

“Well it's not your fucking business.” Franks words have a bit more bite to them, they’re less weak and hoarse. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and tries to walk to the side, tried to leave. But Gerard grabs him by the shoulders and slams him into the wall behind him.  _ Right, he has anger issues.  _ Frank bites back a groan, and ignores the pain on his shoulder blades and spin. 

 

“I found you on the floor, hyperventilating and fucking crying, hell yeah i think its my fucking business.”  _ And he's an entitled ass hole.  _ Frank averts his eyes, refuses to look at Gerard.

 

“I'm fine,” Frank says, not even trying to make it sound believable, “and I’d appreciate if you'd fucking back off.” He ends the sentence by trying to shrug Gerards hands off him. But Gerard just holds on tighter, and his eyes narrow. 

 

“Like hell i'm letting you go after that.” Frank looks up at Gerards eyes, and isn't expecting them to look so intense. for a moment, Frank believes he might be a little worried. 

Frank reaches up and grabs Gerard's wrists, but doesn't make an effort to push him away. He just holds them, while the tension in the air grows. Gerard's hands are causing his shoulders to hurt, they're probably bruising, holding too tight and pushing too hard. 

 

He sighs, clearly and his eyes. “I'm fine, Gerard. Let me go.” He tries to pull Gerards hands off him, but Gerard only tightens his grip and Frank winces slightly. “No.” Gerards voice wavers a bit, drops in volume for a second, enough that it loses all the edge it would've had otherwise. Frank let's his hands fall to his sides, worries his lip, and looks into Gerards eyes. 

 

“Now what?” He asks, voice flat and almost sarcastic. Gerards eyes leave his gaze for a moment, the flick down his body and back up it, but not quite to his eyes again. His eyes stop on Frank's lips and it's probably ten or twenty seconds before something changes. The air shifts, the feeling of Gerards breath against his skin changes, it morphs into something it might've been last night. Gerards hands slip up from Frank's shoulders, over his neck (and Frank doesn't shudder. He  _ doesn't. _ ), to cup his jaw. And he's leaning in ever so slowly, his eyes falling closed. Frank waits, desperate for time to move faster, for Gerard to move faster. Gerard mushes his lips against Frank's and it's an immediate click. They're moving together, taking and giving equally. Their teeth clack and they come up for air and huff a laugh and Frank forgets what happened earlier. Forgets that this is Gerard Way, forgets that he's in a school locker room, forgets that his dad's fucking dead. Just, Gerard. Everything is Gerard in that moment. His thigh between Frank’s legs, his his tongue in Frank's mouth, his hands in Frank's hair and on his hip. The air around them reaches a boiling point, and Gerard is tugging his shirt off in unison with Frank. When they come back together, Frank shudders again, because Gerards body is cold, and feels so good against the fire in his stomach and chest. He gulps in breaths and dives full force into Gerard. Kisses back hard enough to shove the troubles in his mind away, and Gerard kisses him back with enough youthful recklessness and enjoyment that he's forgotten his own last name. Gerard shifts his leg, drags it up between Franks legs and Frank bites down on a moan in his throat. It comes out as a whine, low and needy. 

 

“Gerard,” Frank breaths into the air between them. To which Gerard swallows and gives back. 

“Frank,” they kiss again. Their lips are swollen and wet and the kiss is sloppy. But butterflies make Frank feel light-headed, and he doesn't stop for a second. Doesn't bother catching his breath. 

 

It escalates. From kisses to hickeys everywhere they can reach. From a knee between Frank's legs to a hand under the waistband of his jeans. His jeans eventually join his shirt, and so do Gerards. And their together. It's slow and Frank has to bite into Gerards neck to keep quiet. But it's so good. How Gerard fills him up and ruts into him and whispers “Frankie" into his ear and moans his name when he releases. It's good when Gerard wraps his mouth around Frank and sucks until Frank whines his warning. Gerard swallows every drop, pulls a face, and smiles at Frank. And it's so good, when Gerards kisses his lips. No shoving or tongues, just his lips pressed gently against Franks. 

 

But it's okay when Gerard leaves Frank without a word. When he dresses quickly and leaves the locker room. Frank showers, pulls on his clothes, and leaves the building through the back door. He grinds his teeth together and the ache in his hips and he tries not to limp to his truck. He sits carefully, and catches sight of himself in his rearview mirror. His neck is covered in little red and slightly purple mark's, and he bites back the feeling in his stomach. 

  
  


\-------------------

Scary Love by The Neighbourhood 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank and gerard both regret this


End file.
